Marked: A Glee Story
by TheWanderings
Summary: Rachel is about to find out she's more special than she could ever imagine. Wasn't it enough being shipped off to the House of Night in the first place?


**A/N: Okay, so this is a dedication to one of my favourite books, House of Night by P.C Cast. The beginning will be very similar to the book, so if there are fans out there, don't bite my head off. This is Faberry so I will change the plot to adjust that. You do not have to know the story to read this.**

I swear that I have the worst luck in the world, or at least America. I didn't think that I could end up any lower until I saw that walking corpse leaning against my locker as if he belonged there. Sugar was jabbering in her usual nasally voice, and didn't even notice him.

At first.

And no one else must have noticed him either or else the entire McKinley student body would be talking about seeing as news spread around here like nutella on bread. Which further proves my abnormality if only I can see him.

"No, but Rachel, I swear on my daddy's life that Finn wasn't that drunk after the game. You really shouldn't be such a stick in the mud around him."

"Yes," I said distractedly as I tuned back into the conversation. "Sure, okay." I coughed loudly into my arm for the umpteenth time today. I felt horrible. I must be coming down with what Coach Sylvester calls the 'Teenage Plague'.

If I died, it would most certainly get me out of Biology tomorrow. I cannot bare the thought of slicing into a living creature, even if it's one as repulsive as a frog. One could only hope.

"Rach, are you listening to me?" Sugar squealed as she swatted my side. I feel a sudden pressure and turn away quickly to avoid coughing on Sugar. She scrunches her nose in disgust and wipes the hand that she hit me with on my skirt. "As I was saying, I think he had like three -I don't know- maybe seven beers, and maybe six shots. But besides that he was practically sober. He wouldn't of drank so much if you were with him after the game, instead of your parents dragging you home."

We shared an annoyed look at the injustice that my father and my step-dad had bestowed on me. My father has been so unreasonable since he re-married that sleaze after my papa's passing. Then as soon as it began, the look ended and Sugar was back to her insistent ranting.

"Yeah, and he was celebrating. We beat Carmel High!" Sugar jumped up and down on the spot clapping before she gripped my shoulder and shook it roughly. "Fucking Carmel High! Hello, Rach! Your boyfriend-"

"My almost boyfriend," I corrected her as I rolled my eyes, trying my best not to cough on her arm.

Sugar cast her eyes upwards as if asking God why I was so ridiculous.

"Whatever. Finn is the quarterback and the captain of the Titans so of course he's going to party, regardless of your uptight opinions. It's been a gazillion years since McKinley beat Carmel."

"Sixteen." I'm not the most astute at mathematics, but in comparison to Sugar, I may as well been Einstein.

"Whatever! The point is that he was happy and popular. If you're going to be his girlfriend, you're going to have to cut him some slack. Cuz let's face it, you're kind of an annoying drag. Sorry, aspergers," Sugar shrugs and grins at me apologetically as if that was an apology enough.

"No, the point is that he was drunk out of his mind for- I don't know how many times this week. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but I don't want to go out with somebody who's goals went from being the quarterback and the Glee Club lead, to trying to become McKinley's resident beer pong champ. Besides, if he continues drinking like this, it will be very effective on his health. Right off the top of my head there's; alcohol dependance- how can he move forward in life if he can't put the bottle down? Chronic Hangovers, Gastritis, Alcohol Poisoning, Kidney failure, not to mention a very unattractive beer gut."

"Finn fat? Gross."

The two of them shudder in sync as they continue walking down the hallway at a slower place.

"So are you coming to Lindsey's party tonight?" Sugar asks as I cough, making her repeat the question twice and move away from me slightly.

"I don't feel like it." I groan as I rub my throbbing temples. God, I would consider killing for a Tylenol right at this moment. What, with Sugar jabbering in my ear combined with my killer headache, it's enough to turn a person homicidal.

And that's when I saw it.

Or to be more specific- him. The "walking corpse" dressed in a formal suit as if he jumped straight from his coffin. Well to be scientifically correct, he wasn't _technically _dead. But in the end, no matter what your opinion on the matter is, the end results are the same. The power accompanied with an edge of mystery radiated off of him in invisible rays, and no one could ignore the dark blue crescent moon that marked his forehead and the matching tattooing that framed his eyes and swirling patterns. He was a vampyre. And worse, a Tracker.

I felt my eyes dawn in realization and I felt as if a cold hand was gripping my heart, preventing me from taking another step towards the creature.

I can faintly feel Sugar run into my shoulder and her huffing in annoyance, "Rachel, what the hell? I could have tripped-"

He spoke with a honey-laced tone that washed over my skin seductively, but his words struck even more fear into me as he recited the well known words.

"Rachel Berry, night has chosen thee; thy death will be the birth. Night calls to thee; hearken to Her sweet voice. Your destiny awaits you at the house of night." He spoke in a deep booming voice.

He lifted his long, pale finger and pointed at me. My forehead exploded in excruciating pain and I blacked out as Sugar stood there screaming behind me.

My eye lids flutter open, and I wanted to shield my eyes as the florescent lights caused my eyes to tear up, but my arms felt like lead against my sides. I waited a beat before bracing my hand against the floor and pushing myself into a sitting position. I rub my eyes as I will for the dancing lights in my eyes to leave my sight.

I gasp loudly as my memory comes back to me. I clutch my forehead and scramble back until I am resting against my locker.

I look up to see Sugar inching towards me on the ground. She must have been trying to wake me up before while I was unconscious.

"Holy shit, Rachel," Sugar raises her trembling hand to her mouth. "Your forehead. You-you have the outline of that- that thing on your forehead!" She tries to hold back a sob, but is unsuccessful.

"That monster was a tracker, Rachel. He-He just walked in and-and did _that_!"

It was obvious that Sugar was in hysterics right now and an unhappy Sugar was a terrifying force to deal with.

"Don't cry, Sugar," I blink to clear the pain from my head. "You know I hate it when you do that." I groan out weakly as I try to rest a comforting hand on her shoulder. But I end up feeling my heart shattered when she flinches away from me.

She's scared of me. Me. Rachel Berry. The girl that comes to school dressed with sweaters that are covered in pictures of bunny rabbits and sunshine. She must have seen the hurt in my eyes, because she started ranting once again.

"Shit, Rachel. What are you going to do? You can't leave. Who would I hang out with. Besides you I'm only friends with Jack, Lisa, Damon, Lexis, Lindsey, Finn, Monty, Ray, Charlotte-"

"Sugar, shut up!" I snap, causing her to retreat a good few steps.

I repressed the pain and hurt down into the deepest depth of my soul, successfully holding back the current onslaught of tears that threatened to escape my eyes. It was a trick I used to impress directors of major productions in case they needed an extra in a funeral scene. It also came in handy every time my father picked his new partner over me, which was all the time.

"Sugar, relax. It's probably some ludicrous mistake," I grab hold of my locker as I pull myself to my feet. "Nothing's going to change."

The words sounded completely stupid, even to me. But I wasn't really concerned of what was coming out of my mouth for the time being, which is odd. I swore that I would pride myself on my way of speaking till my deathbed, which apparently is going to be a whole lot sooner than I predicted.

I grimace and shake my head as I examine the hall. A faint feeling of relief fills me at the news that only I and Sugar were the ones occupying the hall. Thank heavens that I decided to run back to my locker and grab my forgotten sheet music. If I had not, I would be waiting outside with the entire McKinley population surrounding me. I shudder at the thought of everyone staring down at me with this mark on my forehead like a target. But it seems that there was someone else in the hall. When I hear a breathy moan, I turn around to see Jacob Ben Israel and his stupid video camera.

"This is so going on my blog." He uttered as he moved closer to me slowly, as if approaching a wild bear. "Hey, do you mind not looking at the camera. It's ruining the shot."

I push myself off my locker and knock him back, the camera flying out of his hand and falling to the floor. The two of us watch as it smashes into pieces and scatters across the floor.

"You broke my camera, you freak!"

You know you're a freak when that kid has the nerve to look down on you.

"Get lost, Jewfro!" Sugar hisses as she kicks the remains of his camera across the floor.

The orange-haired boy huffed and shuffled away and out of sight. I smile at Sugar gratefully and I'm returned with an uncomfortable grimace.

I cough again, and it's violent and nerve wracking.

"Rachel, are you okay?" Sugar asked in a high pitched voice that resembled Minnie Mouse on helium.

If Sugar hadn't been my friend since forever, I probably would have snapped at her and yelled for her to go away. Which is in fact, what I want. I felt a deep anger bubbling inside. It wasn't aimed at Sugar in particular, but at the fear that she suddenly had of me.

"Sugar, it's still the same me! I am exactly as I was two minutes ago, two days ago, two years ago! I am still Rachel Berry, you have no need to be so frightened of me!" I find myself yelling so loud that my brain is back to it's throbbing state. I rub at my forehead roughly, praying that the mark would suddenly rub off on my hand. "This stupid mark doesn't change anything!"

Sugar stands there gaping for a few good moments, looking as if she was grasping for the right words to say to me. The awkward silence was interrupted by Sugar's ring tone "Material Girl" (an okay song at best) echoing through the empty halls. Sugar reached for her phone in her pocket and pulled it out, not before me seeing a picture of Rory lighting up on the screen.

Sugar looks at me as if she's about to say something, but I hold up my hand to stop her.

"Go. Ride home with him."

I want to slap her as her face lights up with apparent relief.

"Call me!" She calls over her shoulder as she rushes down the hall and presses her phone to her ear, speaking rapidly into it. Could she at least wait until I was out of sight before spreading the news that I'm turning into a monster.

And that's the worst part. Turning into a monster was unfortunately the better of the two choices that the Tracker had bestowed on my along with the stupid mark adorning my forehead. Choice one: Go through the change and be reborn again into the night as a creature commonly known as a vampyre. Or two: My body rejects the change and I die an uncomfortable, unwelcomed death.

So good news is that I don't have to pierce that little froggie's heart.

Bad news, I'd be shipped off to this boarding school in Lima Heights Adjacent known as the House of Night, or what Sugar and Finn like to call Vampyre Finishing School, where I would spend four years experiencing bizarre and unnameable physical changes, and who knows else what. And this is only if I don't die.

It's kind of ironic, isn't it. I try to spend my entire life being noticed and in the spotlight. I lived and breathed attention, and yearned to be different so that I'd have a competitive edge in singing and dancing competitions.

Oh no, what if the change affects my voice? I _need _my voice.

And what would my father think. His only child is now even more of a freak. Oh, and I can already imagine my step-father Paul's cold glare that he specially has reserved for me. Oh, and those brain-dead idiots he calls children. I could already picture them ordering Paul and my father to lock me in my room until the disease kills me off.

I messed with my hair a bit so that my hair was covering most of my mark. Keeping my head directed at the floor, as if I were counting the tiles, I rushed out of the hall and made my way to the student parking lot.

I stopped short of going outside. Through the windows by the doors I could see Finn. Girls herded around him, posing and flipping their hair, whilst guys revved ridiculously big muscle cars and tried to look cool with their sunglasses perched on the end of their noses. Why couldn't I be attracted to sweet nice guys? Instead, I'm stuck dating... _that_. No, to be fair I should remember that Finn used to be really sweet and caring, and even now he has his moment. Well, when he's sober anyway.

Finn used to be the sun and the moon in my eyes. He was quarterback, charismatic, an outstanding leader of the drama club and the Glee Club male lead, even though his vocals were lacking a bit. And back then I had a huge crush on him. He was always so nice to me. In fact, I was the one to first ask him out (who says guys have to make the first move). But then before the date could even happen, the Titans started to win. Which lead to all the "celebrating".

Girly giggles flitted to me from the parking lot. Great. Kathy, the sluttiest female to have ever walked McKinley's halls, was pretending to smack Finn. Even from here I could see that her hitting him was some sort of odd mating ritual. As usual, clueless Finn was standing there grinning like an idiot. And there sat my Prius right in the middle of them. How could I get past them with this on my forehead? I knew what they would do if they saw me. I remember what happened to the last kid who got marked at McKinley.

It happened at the beginning of last year. He was a relatively unknown guy. But he was certainly known when he screamed like a little girl at the sight of the female Tracker at his locker. Everyone watched him as he clutched his forehead and ran out of the building, students parting like the red sea as he came near. I'm now ashamed to admit that I was one of the people who recoiled as he came near, and gossiped about it later with my friends.

Instead of going to my car, I headed into the nearby choir room and locked the door. I headed to the mirror near the long ballet bar. When I stared at my reflection, it was as if I was staring into the eyes of a familiar stranger.

She had the same eyes that would light up at the thought of snatching a solo out from under someone's nose. She had the same hair as me, it was dull brown and would fall plainly straight around my shoulders, nothing special. She wore the same dorky clothes that my father was so fond of before his car crash. She had the same large nose that seemed to take up most of my face. We were the exact same except for the outline of the blue recent moon on her forehead.

I know what my grandmother would say. The half native, half african woman would say, "Little Star, there's only so much fear that you can experience before you start heading down a certain path. That path leads down to the Loony Bin."

I would choose the Loony Bin over Vampyre finishing school any day.

From this day on my life would never be the same. And for a moment- just an instant- I forgot about the horror of not belonging and felt a shocking burst of pleasure, because in the distance my grandmother's people rejoiced.

**Okay, so the Native thing is going to be hard to incorporate. So the thing is that Rachel's adoptive grandmother was half native. Hiram is deceased unfortunately, and LeRoy is remarried to Paul, who has two kids. **

**REVIEWS! I DEMAND THEM!**


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